


listen and learn.  ( ignore and rebel )

by rotwound



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Pre-Canon, What else is new, anyways here's a fic, how do people even get editors, i might revise this in the future, isaac being an ass, like always, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27542665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotwound/pseuds/rotwound
Summary: after owen spent 48 hours alone in a holding cell with isaac still with no answer, and having been reported to help a scar across the border and out of enemy lines, isaac decides to take a new initiative: abigail anderson.  𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮.( aka: how owen got those nasty scars on his back. )
Relationships: Abby/Owen (The Last of Us)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	listen and learn.  ( ignore and rebel )

in the deafening silence brought by mutual fear and exhaustion alike, abigail can hear two things: the slow but entirely sure 𝘵𝘢𝘱, 𝘵𝘢𝘱, 𝘵𝘢𝘱, of blood droplets hitting concrete flooring, and the laboured breathing of the man she once could say without hesitance that she loved to the ends of the earth. in the grey-gunmetal light abby can hardly make out the difference between blackened shadows and shallow pools of blood upon the floor — a destruction of her very own creation, carnage upon each bloodsoaked fingertip, and yet she still shivered to see him like this. auburn hair is drenched with sweat, and owen sits slumped over heavily to one side, muscled arms raised only by the thick chain secured to the ceiling that kept him in place; 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨. “ 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, abby. i haven’t told you to stop. “ the piercing words come from isaac just behind her — he might as well have been breathing down her neck, something unabashedly sadistic in his deep brown eyes as he notes the way abigail trembles when he speaks. 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴, a weapon with which he may aim and fire in any direction.

and so she raises the crowbar she’s been given, gripping tightly until her knuckles turn as white as virgin snow — and christ, owen doesn’t even have it in him to flinch anymore as abigail slams the crowbar down against his back once more, abused flesh splitting open to tear down his skin in a long and winding gash.

𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗼𝗿.

“ he helped a SCAR, abby. do you not understand the severity of this? one of my very own soldiers... have i taught you all absolutely 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨? after i took you in as strays — this is how i am repaid? “ isaac’s every word burns deep into abigail’s skin, thoughts moving faster than she can comprehend and he notices her weakness like a shark would notice blood in the water. a firm hand raises to grab her by the chin, thick fingers digging into freckled skin until she lets out a strained growl of pain. she doesn’t fight back. 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘢𝘤. “ 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 when i speak to you, abby. “ isaac hisses, and blue-brown eyes lock upon the older man — he has her attention, now. “ i want you to go in there. he won’t talk for me… but he will for 𝘺𝘰𝘶. “ with that, isaac releases his grasp upon the woman before him; abby immediately clutches her jaw, amber-blonde brows furrowed down in confusion as she stares at him.

“ no — no, isaac, i’m not doing this. you need someone else. i’m not fucking doing that to… to owen! “ abby mutters, and it’s the first time she’s ever denied anything to him. 

“ i don’t think you are understanding me here, abigail. “ isaac lowers his voice to her level, taking a step forward until she could almost feel his breath upon her cheeks. it made her sick. “ i’m not ASKING you to go in there — i am TELLING you. “ and when isaac brings her down the dark, cold hallway into the holding cell, abigail feels her throat close up merely at the sight she beholds — bound by the wrists and standing upon bloodied knees, owen is chained in place in the middle of the room like a sculpture to behold. an art piece featured in a museum built upon fear and lies. he’s been stripped of all his clothing, and his skin is a sickly pale; eyebags darken his features and his lips are chapped, made gaunt by isaac’s ruthless grilling. " owen — wake up. i have a gift for you. " it's sickening, the way isaac toys with them all in the same way a cat would toy with a mouse. the mouse knows death is nigh — and yet the cat prolongs it, dragging it out with a sadistic desire for blood as long as it shall be pumped to shed. 

isaac wakes owen up with a kick to his already bruised ribs, which leaves owen coughing and thrashing in his chains as reality and wakefulness return to him. " fuck! " he cries out, and his voice is hoarse, dry with a lack of hydration. abby wants to crumble to her knees upon seeing this, but she doesn't. somehow, she doesn't. isaac's firm hand snakes its way into short auburn locks and forcibly turns owen's head as to look at abigail, standing with all hesitance at the doorway and a look of grief and remorse upon her features. 

" do you like it, owen? my gift? oh, i thought you would. " isaac jests self-fulfillingly, and before long he's laughing — it's a quiet thing, merely a low rumble in his chest that makes the hairs on the back of abigail's neck stand on end. by then, owen had already looked weak; but the way isaac looked at him… abby knew this was only the beginning. “ go on… say hello. “

“ abby, “ owen chokes out between dry lips, and it takes all of her to not lunge forward and unlock those chains from around his wrists — to free him and give that bastard isaac just what he intended on giving to owen. “ it’s okay. “ he whispers, although the shallow cough racking his entire body tells otherwise.

“ 𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘯, “ the woman murmurs his name just underneath her breath, and her heart breaks to see him like this; in death's hungered maws, unable to save him. isaac would very well have them both killed if she did not play along, she knew. " i'm so sorry. " she whispers, nigh on mouths the words and she knows owen has heard her solely from the fact his expression softens when she speaks; and he nods, understanding. 

" just look at you two lovebirds... such a shame something had to come between you both. " isaac murmurs, sarcasm rolling off of his every word as he leaves owen's side and instead returns to abby's — he rests one hand upon her broad shoulder, ensuring that she face forward and look at owen before her. the mess he’d made of owen, wholly and entirely. " such a shame, what i'm about to make you do. " isaac nigh on purrs the words, a self-righteous and shit-eating grin upon aged features as he walks over to a furnace in the very corner of the room — thereon, he grabs the end of a crowbar sitting at the open furnace door and pulls it out of the hot coals, orange-tipped and raging with heat. “ abigail. “ he murmurs her name, but she knows it’s more of an order than anything; he walks up behind her and places the crowbar in her hands, enclosing thick fingers around the warm, simmering metal at the very end of the crowbar still sizzling from the flame it had been sitting in for god only knows how long. “ 𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮. hit him like you hit those scars, and show me something to be proud of. “ 

“ 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵, “ abigail chokes out the words, hands trembling as they held onto the crowbar. “ isaac- “

“ 𝘏𝘐𝘛 𝘏𝘐𝘔, abigail. “ isaac booms, and his words reverberate in her very soul — she knows what would happen to owen, let alone herself, if only she did not comply. his fate may be worse than a hot iron if she doesn’t do this, she knows. and so she bites down on her bottom lip until it draws blood, slowly raising the simmering crowbar above her head until in one swift movement she whips it down against owen’s back, and his screams are mixed with the sound of burning, searing flesh. isaac’s looming presence behind her needn’t remind her of her duties, and with tears stinging blue-brown eyes she does it again; she raises the crowbar and sinks burning iron into the flesh of owen’s back.

𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁.

the entirely encompassing and thick stench of blood as well as sweat assaulting her nostrils would have made any old-world man or woman keel over and wretch by now — but it wasn’t the desolation that the room beheld, that make abigail sick to her stomach. it was the way isaac-fucking-dixon was making her slow-torture the only goddamn person she had left in this world. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯. none of the others understood her like owen did… and god, those loving brown eyes still stared back at her with that disgustingly understanding look in them each time she struck him. “ he’s not going to crack, isaac. “ abby murmurs, and her voice trembles when she speaks — isaac is standing merely a few feet away, 

“ oh, yes he will, abigail — have faith in me. “ had isaac said this three years prior, abigail would have believed him without hesitation. but she knew him better than that now. she knew the extent of the evil that lurked behind his eyes, and that his assurances were nothing but false truths to reel one in further to his trap. and so he says it, “ 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, abby. i haven’t told you to stop. “ he orders, and she complies. with a sick 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬, owen lurches forward in his restraints and vomits blood upon the linoleum floors below — his back had been made entirely a mess, flesh burned and torn open from the simmering iron after hours of relentless torture, pools of blood coagulated upon rippling flesh and beneath him upon the floor. owen’s back rests twisted as he sits uncomfortably upon his knees and his side dips unnaturally; abby shudders as she notices it. multiple broken ribs were likely, on top of internal bleeding. “ okay, i… i h- helped him, “ owen chokes out the words, brown eyes dilated and somewhere too far off to be present anymore. he was weak, oh so weak. abby wanted to fall to her knees right then and there if only to take owen’s place — owen’s pain. “ 𝘪 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳. fuck! “

“ there… now, that’s all i wanted, owen. it couldn't have been that hard, could it? “ isaac’s voice comes from behind abigail, followed by the slow tapping of his boots upon bloody floors as he makes his way over to owen; he cups his chin within one hand, and stares down at his pathetic, beaten form. “ you won’t do such a 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 thing again... now, will you? “

“ … 𝘯𝘰, 𝘴𝘪𝘳. “ owen murmurs weakly, blood still dripping slowly from his chin and onto the floor. abigail feels the blood rush to her head as she stares at the sight before her, and as if she’s just beheld it for the very first time she drops the crowbar as she keels over and wretches, only to stand again a moment later as she scrambles to leave the room on weakened legs.

isaac meets her outside of the holding cell minutes later, sitting up against a wall with thick fingers digging hard into amber locks as her entire body trembles with broken sobs. “ you did good, abigail. i knew i could count on you. “ he murmurs to her, and she flinches when she hears his voice — as if he had physically struck her instead of merely speaking. and slowly, she raises her head from where it sat hidden in her hands, freckled skin stained with tears as the skin around her eyes grew puffy and red with emotion.

“ … fuck… 𝘺𝘰𝘶. “ abby hisses the words with all the unbridled rage and horror her soul may gather, and her breath trembles as it rolls off of her tongue. isaac fucking dixon... 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘦.


End file.
